


Do You Like Haggis?

by bettysofia



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Charles You Slut, Come Marking, Erik is Crushing Harder than a 12-year Old Girl, Kilts, Kissing, M/M, Made up sexual euphemisms, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Scotland, haggis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-05
Updated: 2016-12-05
Packaged: 2018-09-06 18:53:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8764957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bettysofia/pseuds/bettysofia
Summary: While on a recruiting mission to Edinburgh Erik asks Charles if he would like to have haggis in the hopes of getting to have a quiet romantic night together. Only he doesn't know that the kind of haggis Charles has in mind is not the quiet dinner kind.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Butterynutjob](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Butterynutjob/gifts).



> Buttery, have some kilt porn!

They have been sitting in silence in the back of the taxi, watching as green hills roll by, for a while when Erik decides to speak.

“Have you ever tried haggis?” he asks.

“Oh,” Charles turns to look at him with eyebrows slightly raised. “Once or twice,” he says, and then he smiles at Erik. “Have you?”

“Yes. I spent a couple of months in Glasgow last year, I tried it then. Would you like to have some tonight?”

“I’d love to, my friend,” Charles says, and his smiles grows even wider. “How about you come to my room at eight and we’ll have haggis.”

“Perfect,” Erik answers.

Then his focus shifts from Charles and what could possibly be a romantic evening in a foreign country to land entirely on the mission. They have been in Edinburgh only half a day but have already located the potential new recruit – a woman whose limbs can grow to twice their own length – and now it is time for them to convince her to join them.

~~~~

After hours of talking and trying to convince the woman to join them the success they finally had in recruiting the new mutant to their cause makes the evening and the long shower he allows himself feel even sweeter. Finally, Erik lets himself think about his plans with Charles. As he dresses and fixes his hair, he is even more meticulous than usual.

Then promptly at eight o’clock he knocks on Charles’ door, and discreetly wipes his palms on his thighs. There is the muffled sound of a thud and Charles calling through the door; “Erik, come on in!”

He slides the lock open with a wave of his hand and steps inside. For a second he is not sure if he actually fell asleep earlier and maybe he is dreaming but on the bed is Charles. In a kilt. And nothing else.

Charles is leaning against the headboard, one muscled arm lazily stretched over a pillow and the other resting on his thigh. His legs are splayed and bent at the knee. His chest is bare, well defined, and with a smattering of freckles that Erik wants to trace with his tongue. Across his thighs stretches a dark blue and green tartan with thin yellow stripes. The kilt brushes the edge of his knees but Erik is certain that if he leaned down just a little bit he would get quite an eyeful.

Managing to tear his eyes away from Charles’ flat stomach and the trail of dark brown hair disappearing under the kilt, Erik looks at Charles’ smug face.

“I – “ he starts, “I thought we were getting haggis.”

Charles sits up a little straighter and the kilt slides up his thighs and exposes more pale skin and thick muscles to Erik’s gaze. “Oh,” he chuckles like he is embarrassed. But Erik knows him well enough to know that is not true.

“You meant dinner,” Charles says, cheeks pink and eyes merry.

“What else could I have meant?” Erik asks.

“Well, you see,” Charles starts, biting his lower lip. When it slips from his teeth it is even redder than usual and slick with spit. “When I was a graduate student at Oxford I met this Scotsman, a very nice chap, and he told me about the other kind of haggis.”

“Other kind?”

Charles looks Erik straight in the eyes and gets up on his knees. “Haggis is when you fuck someone wearing a kilt,” he says. He starts sliding the fabric even further up over his thighs, all the way until Erik sees the tip of Charles’ cock as it hangs between his thick thighs still mostly flaccid. “Fancy some haggis?”

It’s ridiculous and silly and exactly something that Charles would do. And it works. Erik can feel himself get harder by the second. All his blood rushes south like rapids through his veins as he watches Charles tease him with the promise of what is underneath that kilt.

He pounces and Charles howls with delighted laughter as his back hits the mattress. He spares a moment of thought to the few fumbles in the dark they have had together so far, practically virginal compared to what this seems to be heading for, and for a second he thinks that maybe they are going too fast. He doesn’t want to take advantage of Charles in any way.

_Erik,_ Charles says inside his head. _I am offering myself up on a platter. I quite clearly want this. Do you?_

Erik doesn’t need to think about that. At all. Of course he wants it. He wants Charles every single second of every day.

_Good. Then do something about it._

Charles wriggles beneath him and Erik can feel the fabric of his kilt bunching up. He slides his hands up under it, reveling in the sensation of Charles’ bare skin under his hands, and grips his ass.

_Yes! That’s more like it._

Charles wraps his arms around Erik’s neck and pulls him down into a fiery kiss. Their lips leave heated trails as they drink each other in. Charles’ hands travel from Erik’s neck to his shoulders and his legs wrap around Erik’s waist. Charles is fully hard now – Erik can feel his hot length pressed up against his belly.

As they kiss, deep and desperate, Charles starts pulling on Erik’s turtleneck; pulling it from the waistband of his slacks and sneaking nimble hands under it to run all over his back. Goosebumps erupt where Charles’ hands touch him. He wants more of it. He wants to feel Charles’ skin against his.

Reluctantly and with a soft groan, he lets Charles go and sits back up on his haunches. Charles breathes out a little whimper and locks his eyes with Erik’s.

_Yes, take it off._

Erik reaches down and grabs his shirt by the hem and pulls it over his head. Without looking away from Charles he tosses it to the side.

_Trousers too. And underwear. I want you naked._

It is a bit tricky to balance on one knee and at the same time try to jiggle out of his slacks. But he manages to get both his pants and underwear off and pushed away; all under Charles’ intense gaze.

_God, that is a marvelous cock._

He follows Charles’ eyes down and down as they glide along Erik’s body and settle on his cock. It is dark red and straining from between curls of auburn pubic hair. Charles licks his lips and reaches a hand out to trace a finger along the underside of his penis and caress his cockhead.

“Fuck, Charles!”

It is the first either of them has said aloud in what must be several minutes and it takes the breath from them both. Erik is breathing hard and Charles has a wild look in his eyes as he continues to fondle Erik’s cock. Charles’ own crotch is once again hidden from his view by the kilt. But somehow that just makes it more enticing; he can’t see Charles’ cock but he can see the way it is tenting the swath of fabric across his lap.

“Do you have something we can use as lubrication?” he asks.

“Top drawer,” Charles answers with a smirk and another tug on Erik’s cock.

He is leading Erik around by his dick and all Erik can do is revel in the feeling and trot along. He knows he would follow Charles to the end of the world. He dips down on one elbow and again he can feel Charles’ cock trapped between them as he opens the drawer and pulls out a tin of Vaseline.

 “Turn around,” he says.

There’s a spark in Charles eyes and he hurries to flip over and get on his hands and knees. His ass is still covered by the kilt and it feels like unwrapping a particularly exciting present. He folds the kilt up, little by little, until he has all of Charles’ glorious ass uncovered. Just for good measure he gives it a slap. Charles jerks and goes still for a second, then he lets out a long, breathy moan.

_Get to it!_

_Alright, alright. Bossy._ Erik tries to project as clearly as possible.

He slicks up his right-hand fingers. With his left, he squeezes Charles’ buttock and exposes his tight little pucker. Carefully he works his index finger around Charles’ hole, gently massaging the muscle, until he can slip the tip of his finger inside. Charles mewls and pushes back and Erik slips his finger farther in.

He keeps doing that; gently sliding his finger in and out of Charles at what he knows must be a maddening pace but he wants to be careful – treat Charles right. His own cock is hard and heavy and crying out for more attention. But he ignores it and gives Charles a second finger; his middle finger joins his index finger and together they open Charles up wider and wider.

When Charles starts huffing and grinding himself against Erik’s fingers, he slides them from him and Charles whines. Only for a second, then Erik has his cheeks spread and his cock lined up against Charles’ hole.

He grips Charles hip hard with one hand, probably leaving a mark which makes a smug satisfaction run through him, and the other hand guides his cock into Charles. He starts slow, pushing steadily against the ring of muscle. He moans loudly when his cockhead pops inside Charles. The wet heat is amazing after neglecting his cock for so long. He wants to push and claim and take.

_Do it! I’m not a porcelain doll. Fuck me hard._

With one hand on Charles’ ass and the other gripping the edge of the kilt Erik starts pumping his hips. He fucks into Charles with abandon. He pushes into his tight heat and pulls back until just his head is enveloped. With each thrust Charles moans and meets Erik’s hips with his ass. Then he clenches and Erik nearly goes wild.

“Fuck, Charles!” He tugs on the kilt and pulls Charles closer. “You feel so fucking amazing. So tight for me.”

He leans down and presses wet sloppy kisses to Charles neck and down along his spine. It is amazing. He never wants to leave. He wants to stay inside Charles forever. But wonderful is short unfortunately and much too soon he can feel the tell-tale tightness in his balls. The feeling ignites him from within but before he can explode Charles reaches back and puts a hand on his.

_Pull out. Come on me!_

Charles voice inside his head is lit up with pleasure. Erik does as he is told with a deep groan. He fists his cock and pumps it sloppily and hard until everything erupts and thick white jets of semen shoot across Charles back and across the kilt.

He gives himself a couple more pumps, watching a few trickles of semen join the other on Charles’ kilt, until he is too sensitive to touch.

“Oh God,” Charles breathes out. As he turns around under him, Erik can see the ropes of cum on Charles’ thighs and the deep pink flush covering his chest. His own orgasm hit him so hard he didn’t even notice that Charles came too.

“That was splendid,” Charles purrs into his ear. He then wraps his arms around Erik and pulls him down next to him on the mattress and proceeds to tangle himself around him like an octopus.

 “You know what I’m thinking?” Erik asks, minutes later when they both have had a chance to catch their breath.

“Of course I do”, Charles chuckles. “Next time we’ll get you a kilt too.”


End file.
